Leaving the maternity centre, Nicole slumped onto a bench and pulled her phone from her handbag. After a few long rings, Dennis answered.
“Dan, why didnt you meet me?” Nicole asked, her voice heavy.
“Im on my way, love! Bloody traffic!” Dennis blurted. Behind him, irritated voices and car horns blared.
“I already left,” Nicole said. “I couldnt stay there any longer.”
A sigh crackled through the line. He understood.
“Waiting,” Nicole muttered before hanging up.
Tucking her phone away, she exhaled and studied the scene around her. A crisp autumn breeze tugged golden leaves from the trees, and the sun cast its last warm glow before winters grip took hold. The last whisper of an Indian summer lingered. Mothers strolled with their children, seizing the fleeting warmth. Kids tumbled laughing into rustling piles of leaves while the women chatted, swapping proud tales of their little ones. The playground outside the centre was packedmaddeningly so, as if mocking her.
Nicole swallowed hard. She would never bring her own child here. Because she wouldnt have one. This had been her fourth miscarriage. This time, theyd sent her not to a standard clinic but to a specialist centre. Dennis, her husband, hadnt balked at the cost. Yet the doctors could only shrug. Nicole and Dennis were perfectly healthytheyd even checked their compatibility. No answers. “Recurrent pregnancy loss, unexplained” still glared from her records, and her consultant, with solemn pity, had urged her to have faith and pray.
Her thoughts shattered as someone settled beside her. Nicole turned. An elderly Roma woman sat there, wrapped in a long, patterned skirt, a headscarf framing her face, heavy gold earrings dangling with gemstones. The very image of her wandering folk.
“Sad, love?” the woman asked, skipping pleasantries.
Nicole nodded.
“I see your little one didnt come again,” the woman said.
“How do you know?” Nicole gaped, though a cynical thought flickeredshe must have contacts in the centre, feeding her patient details. Now would come the talk of curses, the demand for money…
“Your dreams… they hold the answer,” the woman murmured. “Each time before you lose the babe, the same dream comes. Look there for the clue. A curse lies on you, girl. The child will show you. Lift it, and another dream will comethen youll know its over.”
“Uh” Nicole faltered, struck dumb. Shed told no one of the dreams, not even Dennis.
Before she could gather herself, the woman stood abruptly and walked off, strangely not asking for a single penny.
***
A week earlier.
The same train station again, the platform split in two. One side bathed in light, warm and inviting. The other, dark and grim.
Nicole stood waiting, women crowding around her, all expectant. She hovered at the threshold between light and shadow, as did a handful of others.
A train whistle echoed in the distance. It arrived swiftly, wind buffeting Nicole as the engine and carriages roared past.
Her heart hammered. She froze. The carriage doors slid open, and children spilled outboys and girls, no older than three, in bright dresses and tiny shirts. They hurled themselves into their mothers arms and vanished into the light.
On the dark side, children of all ages lingered. When the doors opened, they trudged inside, faces sorrowful, tears slipping down their cheeks.
Nicole scanned the windows anxiously. Some children, whod started on the bright side, drifted toward the dark carriage as if resigned.
Then she saw hera little girl with fair hair and green eyes. The moment Nicole glimpsed that achingly familiar face, her heart lurched. The girl waved sadly, one hand tucked behind her back.
A surge of love, overwhelming and fierce, propelled Nicole forwardonly for a conductor to block her path. The woman, dressed in a crisp white trouser suit, held up a hand.
“You cant. The child must come out on her own.”
But the girl didnt. She strained against some unseen force, desperate yet trapped. Behind Nicole, other women wailed.
The girl mouthed words Nicole understood at once: “Mummy, Ill come! Just later!”
“When, sweetheart, when?” Nicole cried.
“When you free the bird!” the girl answered. She drew her hidden hand forward, revealing a tiny blue tit impaled by a needle. Crimson drops stained her palm. With a sigh, she stepped back, vanishing into the dark carriage.
The conductor smiled and boarded. The train rumbled away, leaving the women bereft.
***
“Nic, love? Snap out of it!” Denniss voice jolted her back.
Nicole blinked, finding herself in their living room, staring at a painting across the waya winter scene. A rowan branch, laden with scarlet berries against snow. Two blue tits perched there, wings spread as if ready to take flight.
This paintinga wedding gift from Denniss ex, Marina. A peace offering after her spiteful antics.
Nicole squinted. Something glinted on one birds side.
“Nic, you alright?” Dennis touched her shoulder.
She brushed his hand away gently, stood, and approached the painting. Dennis followed, wary.
Nicole lifted it from the wall and turned it over. There, hidden in the inscription”In reconciliation, from Marina”was the eye of a needle, piercing the canvas. The tip protruded just enough to wound one of the painted birds.
Gooseflesh prickled her skin.
“Whats this?” Dennis frowned.
“Your Marinas handiwork,” Nicole whispered.
“Shes not mine,” Dennis muttered, green eyes narrowing.
“Doesnt matter. Its a curse,” Nicole said firmly. “And I think its why I cant carry a child.”
She told him of the dreams, of the Roma woman outside the centre.
***
An hour later, they returned, hoping to find the woman. She sat on the same bench, as if waiting. Spotting their car, she stood.
“You knew?” Nicole asked.
“Knew youd come,” the woman corrected. “Found the thread?”
“Needle and all,” Nicole said bitterly. “You know these thingscan you help? Well pay you.”
The woman smiled and nodded.
***
Five months later.
The same station. The same platform. But this time, Nicole stood bathed in light, trembling as the train approached.
When the carriage doors opened, her heart nearly burst
Out stepped the conductor, radiant in her white suit, face alight with joy.
And then, rushing into the sunlight at last, the fair-haired girl with green eyes. She sprinted, arms outstretched, and tumbled into Nicoles embrace. Two heartsmother and daughterbeat as one. A few more months, and theyd never part again. What were months compared to years of longing?
